Tonéx:Cool With U Lyrics

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Check me out y'allNasty Nas in your areaAbout to cause mass hysteria

Before I blunt, I take out my frontsThen I start to front; matter of fact, I be on a manhuntYou couldn't catch me in the streets without a ton of reeferThat's like Malcolm X catching the Jungle FeverKing poetic. Too much flavor, I'm majorAtlanta ain't Brave-r, I'll pull a number like a pager'Cause I'm an ace when I face the bass40-side is the place that is giving me graceNow wait, another dose and you might be deadAnd I'm a Nike-head, I wear chains that excite the FedsAnd ain't a damn thing gonna changeI'mma performer strange, so the mic warmer was born to gainNas, why did you do itYou know you got the mad fat fluid when you rhyme, it's halftime

It's halftimeThis is how it feel, check it out, how it feel

It's like that, you know it's like thatI got it hemmed, now you never get the mic backWhen I attack, there ain't an army that could strike backSo I react never calmly on a hype trackI set it off with my own rhyme'Cause I'm as ill as a convict who kills for phone timeI'm max like cassettes, I flex like sexIn your stereo sets, Nas'll catch wreckI used to hustle; now all I do is relax and striveWhen I was young I was a fan of the Jackson 5I drop jewels, wear jewels, hope to never run itWith more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomachNasty Nas has to rise 'cause I'm wiseThis is exercise till the microphone diesBack in '83 I was an MC sparkin'But I was too scared to grab the mics in the parks andKick my little raps 'cause I thought niggas wouldn't understandAnd now in every jam I'm the fuckin' manI rap in front of more niggas than in the slave shipsI used to watch "CHiPs", now I load Glock clipsI got to have it, I miss Mr. MagicVersatile, my style switches like a faggotBut not bisexual, I'm an intellectualOf rap I'm a professional and that's no question, yoThese are the lyrics of the man, you can't near it, understand?Cause in the streets, I'm well-known like the number manAm I in place with the bass and formatExplore rap and tell me "Nas ain't all that"And next time I rhyme, I be foulWhenever I freestyle I see trial, niggas say I'm wildI hate a rhyme-biter's rhymeStay tuned, Nas soon - the real rap comes at halftime

I got it going on, even flip a morning songEvery afternoon, I kick half the tuneAnd in the darkness, I'm heartless like when the NARC's hitWord to Marcus Garvey: I hardly sparked it'Cause when I blast the herb, that's my wordI be slayin' them fast, doing this that and the thirdBut chill, pass the Andre, and let's slayI bag bitches up at John Jay, and hit a matineePutting hits on 5-0'Cause when it's my time to go, I wait for God with the .44And biters can't come nearAnd yo, go to hell to the foul cop who shot GarciaI won't plant seeds, don't need an extra mouth I can't feedThat's extra Phillie change, more cash for damp weedThis goes out to Manhattan, the island of StatenBrooklyn and Queens is living fat andThe Boogie Down, enough props, enough cloutIll Will, rest in peace, yo, I'm out